


Oh, my dear ghosts

by Mademoisellesnowflake



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Aramis doesn't really handle things, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Memories of Savoy, Theres's a lot more hurt tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-10-28 16:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10835145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mademoisellesnowflake/pseuds/Mademoisellesnowflake
Summary: A few weeks after Marsac's death, Aramis' ghosts come back to haunt him when the four friends are returning from an escorting trip in Nantes. However, these ghosts are much more solid than the ones he usually sees in his nightmares...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this actually became a lot darker than I thought it would be. I also fear I might not have been able to keep Athos in character while writing this so I deeply apologize if it bothers you. I'm open to continuing this or writing something taking place after this fic because I feel like I left some things unsolved.

It had been few weeks after the incident with Marsac when Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d’Artagnan had been assigned to escort a duke from Nantes during his return to his home from his visit to the king. The ride was quite long since the duke didn’t want to travel fast so the four weren’t expected to get home anytime soon. Treville had even gone out of his way to tell the four to take all their time returning home. Athos had started suspecting it was to give some peace to all of them; troubles somehow seemed to find the four without fail whatever the four were doing.

“Only few hours longer and then we are ready to leave the duke on his own”, Porthos said to no one in particular. The journey had made him very irritated; he didn’t really get along with the duke’s own men.

“Now, now”, Aramis laughed, “Surely you won’t be so eager to leave for Paris yet? Captain Treville told us to take our time returning and I am surely going to do so. It has been so long since I was able to sleep in the nature.”

“You big nature-loving fool”, Porthos harrumphed. “Knowing us, we will find trouble in the goddamn forests we’re going to sleep in.”

Aramis mock-gasped at Porthos’ comment and said: “Do you not trust me with the simple task of sleeping outside?”

“Not really”, Porthos said. “You’ll probably be the first one of us to actively look for trouble.”

“Now you lie”, Aramis said. “We all know it’s our dear d’Artagnan who _goes_ to find the trouble. Athos is the one who accidentally attracts every trouble on the way. Me, I only attract the fairer sex.”

At that Porthos let out a hearty laugh. Aramis always knew how to lift his friends’ mood even when they were itching to get away from the duke and his men.

“I’m really glad captain told us to take our time”, d’Artagnan said. “It is good to have some leisure time between missions and since it’s been warm lately, we can sleep outside.”

“See, Porthos?” Aramis asked. “At least d’Artagnan is on my side.”

Athos shook his head. It was so like the other three to cause stress to Athos only by jesting at each other. Honestly, sometimes he felt as if he had accidentally adopted three adventurous younger brothers to look after. Only not all of them were younger than Athos and they were all very capable of looking after their own selves.

Athos sighed. They were almost at Nantes already and it was a late afternoon which meant they could still ride some miles towards home during that day. He saw a man from the duke’s escort riding towards them.

“The duke says you can turn back home now since we are already on his lands”, the man said. “He wishes to thank you for the escort and gives a small sum of money to each of you as thanks for your work and wishes you a safe journey home.”

The man handed Athos four small pouches of money and Athos said: “Thank you. We will be on our way, then.”

The man nodded at Athos and the other curtly and returned to the duke’s carriage. Athos gave the other three their respective pouches.

“Now that was a chilly dismissal”, Porthos remarked. “They seriously didn’t seem to like us.”

“Well, at least the journey is over now and we can start our return”, Athos said. “Shall we go?”

“Let us do so”, Aramis said. “The sooner we get back home, the better. Although I wouldn’t mind if we rode slow…”

“Paris is less than day and a half away”, Athos mused. “It would not hurt to ride slightly slower than we usually do.”

Aramis smiled while manoeuvring his horse to turn. Porthos mumbled something about too much nature but smiled nonetheless.

“We might end up having to sleep two nights outside”, Porthos said after some time. “We might not reach Paris tomorrow night if we continue this pace.”

“Treville won’t expect us to return in another two days so we’ll be early either way”, Athos said. “I think it will be a good thing to keep our pace like this and not speed up too much.”

They rode all evening but eventually night fell and they had to settle down at a small forest clearing. They cooked the rabbits they had caught earlier and then went to sleep. Athos decided to take the first watch and Porthos told him to wake Porthos up halfway during the night so he wouldn’t stay awake the whole night.

Few hours passed and Athos almost dozed off once or twice but apart from that, nothing interesting happened. He was soon to go wake up Porthos when he heard Aramis making distressed sounds in his sleep. He walked next to Aramis and was all but ready to wake him up when Aramis shot up and ran to the edge of the clearing to throw up his meal from the previous evening. Athos followed him to see if his friend needed help.

“Was the meat bad or did you have a nightmare?” Athos asked quietly as he placed a supporting hand on Aramis’ shoulder.

“Nightmare”, Aramis gasped. His left hand was gripping a tree branch to keep himself steady as he slowly straightened his back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Athos asked, still keeping his voice low. He led Aramis to sit near the small campfire he had been keeping up to keep all of them warm.

“It was different from usual”, Aramis whispered. “I was in Savoy but it was different… I think I was one of the people ambushing the camp… And then when I came to my senses… You all were dead… You and Porthos and d’Artagnan… you were all dead… I had killed you…”

_Why did he so suddenly get a new nightmare?_ Athos asked himself as he rubbed Aramis’ back as the latter trembled. (From cold or fright or something else? Athos wasn’t completely sure.) _Could it be from having to shoot Marsac…?_

“You should go back to sleep, Aramis”, Athos said quietly. “I will soon wake Porthos up to keep watch during this night and you know he won’t let anything happen to us…”

“You’re right”, Aramis muttered. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t make this much trouble to you…”

“It was no trouble, believe me”, Athos said while smiling sadly at his friend who was lowering himself down on his makeshift bed. “We’ll be there to help you when you need us, just like you are always there for us…”

* * *

 

They continued their journey the next day and covered most of the distance and eventually settled down in the evening. Porthos wasn’t very happy that they were only a bit over an hour’s ride away from Paris but Athos reasoned that they were all very tired and weren’t expected home that evening. D’Artagnan eagerly volunteered to keep watch for the first half of the night while Aramis was supposed to keep watch the second half.

A tired d’Artagnan woke Aramis up as promised halfway through the night. Aramis was glad to be on guard duty. Ever since Savoy he had needed someone to stand on guard while the others slept if he ever slept outside. He was honestly so very glad that his brothers understood his silly need for reassurance since he wasn’t sure what he’d do if they didn’t.

Except he fully well knew he would be the one keeping guard even if it meant sacrificing weeks of sleep.

After few hours of no incident he suddenly heard some rustling from the woods. The sun was rising slowly and Aramis swore he could see figures moving in the shadows. He felt blood thumping in his ears as he slowly made his way to d’Artagnan who was still sleeping the lightest; he had fallen asleep less than an hour before.

“Wake up, d’Artagnan!” Aramis whispered hastily as he shook the boy’s shoulder. “Wake up! I need you to ride to Paris immediately!”

“What?” d’Artagnan asked groggily. “What’s going on, Aramis?”

“I think we might be getting ambushed soon”, Aramis whispered, his gaze never once leaving the shadows. Had he only imagined those shadows? No, he could clearly see a person moving in the shadows. “I need you to ride to Paris as fast as you can and inform captain Treville that we are most likely under attack and need reinforcements. Quickly now, d’Artagnan!”

“Wouldn’t it be better for me to stay…?” d’Artagnan started to ask before being hushed quiet by Aramis.

“If you stay it will all be like Savoy all over again!” Aramis whispered angrily. “At least one of us has to survive and the one right now is you! Just go, d’Artagnan!”

D’Artagnan got dressed very hastily while Aramis inched to Athos and Porthos while still keeping his gaze at the shadows. Just as d’Artagnan had managed to saddle his horse, Aramis shot to his feet.

“They’re coming, d’Artagnan, hurry!” Aramis whispered hastily and then suddenly shouted: “Athos! Porthos! Get up!”

“The hell, Aramis?” Porthos asked, only seconds before someone shot a musket at the edge of the clearing. Aramis felt the musket ball grazing his left cheek. Porthos was immediately on his feet while Athos was still getting up while cursing everything he could think of at the moment. Aramis grabbed his sword and muskets and let his sight swipe the edge of the clearing in hopes of seeing the ambushers. D’Artagnan finally managed to ride off while the three men were readying themselves for the battle.

“Show yourselves, you cowards!” Aramis roared and shot one of his muskets at a shadow he had seen moving. Suddenly at least ten men emerged from the shadows. With no warning sign, Aramis was already dashing towards the men with a blood-curling shout of anger.

Athos was the first one shaken out of his stupor by Aramis’ shout. He managed to shoot down two of the ten men before they reached Aramis who was being helped by Porthos to fell the men.

“You should have taken me when you had the chance!” Aramis bellowed, looking slightly mad with rage. “You should have taken me five years ago!”

Athos’ heart jumped into his throat as he looked at Aramis for only a second. Aramis was fighting four of the attackers while Porthos and Athos were fighting the other four. Athos was quickly finished with his opponents and rushed to help Porthos who was nearer to him than Aramis was. When the two had finished the two that had been attacking Porthos, they turned around and saw Aramis fighting off the last assailant. Aramis had a cut across his chest and other on his arm but what worried Athos the most was the mad look on his brother’s eyes.

Aramis looked like he was ready to tear the assailant apart, limb by limb. He was fighting like a madman, screaming incoherent sentences that mixed French and Spanish. After he impaled the man’s heart with deadly accuracy, he turned to face Athos and Porthos with the same mad look he had given the man he had just killed. Athos could only stare in horror when he understood that Aramis wasn’t seeing him and Porthos but faceless ambushers instead. Aramis darted towards Athos when suddenly Porthos’ strong hands caught Aramis and lifted him up from behind. Aramis screamed in fury as Athos hurried to wrench Aramis’ sword from his hand.

“You cowards!” Aramis barked. “You killed them! You killed my twenty companions! You should be dead instead of them!”

Aramis dissolved into a fit of shouts in Spanish and French again while Porthos desperately tried calling his brother’s name. After some time, Aramis finally quietened and locked his eyes with Athos’. It looked as if Aramis finally recognized his brothers.

“Athos?” he whispered hoarsely. “Athos, what is it? Why do you look so shocked? Please don’t tell me I had another flashback… oh God, please no…”

Porthos was slowly letting Aramis down but as soon as his feet hit the ground, his knees buckled under him and he sunk onto his knees. Athos followed him, kneeling in front of Aramis who had now started to tremble.

“Aramis”, Athos said in a quiet, yet powerful voice, “you said ‘another flashback’. Does that mean you’ve had them before?”

Aramis nodded shakily and brought his right hand to clutch his hair as he began shaking violently. Porthos sat down behind him and started stroking his arm gently. Athos placed his hand on Aramis’ other shoulder but suddenly he realised he had an armful of sobbing Aramis clinging onto him. Athos wrapped his own arms around Aramis’ shaking form while he sent a helpless look at Porthos.

“It’s alright”, Athos whispered. “We’re all safe thanks to you, Aramis. It’s alright.”

“I almost killed you”, Aramis whispered, “I almost killed you in my rage… Oh I’m so sorry…”

Porthos had moved so that he could hug both Athos and Aramis from behind Aramis. He sighed when Aramis began his apologising.

“You saved us”, he said very quietly. “Without your quick thinking all four of us would be dead. You don’t have to apologise at all. We’re alive only thanks to you.”

“Speaking of the four of us”, Athos said, “where is d’Artagnan?”

“Sent him to Paris”, Aramis whispered, his voice wet from the crying. “Told him to get captain Treville… To tell that we’re under attack.”

“See? You did great”, Porthos whispered gently. “You saved us all and we’ll be getting help very soon. All we have to do is just to wait.”

Aramis only continued sobbing hysterically. Athos tightened his grip on his brother’s shoulders.

In the end, it was exactly how Treville and d’Artagnan found the three: huddled together in a heap, trying to calm Aramis down from his panic. Three very differently broken men sitting on the forest floor, holding each other like letting go would mean that they would be separated forever.

Maybe one day they would be able to stitch together their old but still bleeding wounds.

One day; the day they sat on the forest floor in the tight heap definitely was not the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh boy, hasn't it been ages ever since I published this story? Now is time for the promised continuation that will, hopefully, give you some closure :D

As Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d’Artagnan rode into the garrison following their captain and a few other musketeers, they were deadly quiet. Athos was worried for Aramis after his outburst and the implication of other flashbacks made dread churn in his stomach. He had come to know Aramis as a very private person who, at first glance, seemed to give away a lot of information about himself but, when one listened closer, he actually gave away almost nothing of importance. Athos had virtually no idea who Aramis was or where he’d come from, only that they were brothers in anything but blood.

Porthos, on the other hand, did know a little bit more of Aramis than Athos did. He had been at Aramis’ side ever since Savoy and had seen the worst of Aramis. He knew something of Aramis’ Spanish heritage but did not truly know who Aramis was, either.

After dismounting, Athos and Porthos followed Aramis who had already led his horse to the stables. His gaze was empty, and he was shivering, possibly lost in another flashback.

“Aramis”, Athos called quietly. “Are you well?”

Aramis almost said “yes”. Oh, he really wanted to. He was smiling a well-learnt fake smile as he turned his head at his friends, but something made him hesitate.

Was he really well? He felt his face falling as he realised that he most certainly was not well and would need help from his brothers.

He had never learnt to ask for help. When living with his mother in the brothel, he’d been the responsible child and helped others, never receiving any help himself. When he’d lived with father d’Herblay, his need for help had always been noticed before he could ask for it, so he’d never learnt to ask for any.

“No”, Aramis whispered. “I don’t think I am.”

Porthos instantly moved to hug Aramis. Aramis leaned into the hug, releasing a shaky breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. When he felt Athos’ hand at his back, he blinked his eyes and another shiver ran through him.

“Is everything alright here?” asked d’Artagnan who was leading his horse into the stables.

“No”, Porthos mumbled.

“Let me and Jacques take care of the horses”, d’Artagnan offered, “and you two help Aramis. I’ll get some of Serge’s soup for us as soon as I’m done with the horses.”

“Thank you, d’Artagnan”, Athos said and placed his hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “We’ll be in Aramis’ room.”

D’Artagnan nodded and set to work with the horses as Athos and Porthos led Aramis to his room. They gathered the few extra quilts from Aramis’ cupboard and wrapped them over Aramis’ shoulders after he’d taken off his coat. He sat at the corner of his bed, shivering as Athos and Porthos sat at his side.

“You should talk to us”, Porthos said. “You very well know that keeping things in like that isn’t healthy.”

“I know”, Aramis said quietly. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“Start with the flashbacks”, Athos said. “Are they a recent thing or have you had them ever since Savoy?”

“They’re recent”, Aramis whispered. “I’d only had one before this morning. I had it two days after Marsac…”

“What triggered the flashback?” Porthos asked.

“I smelled blood”, Aramis said, looking in the distance. “And someone screamed.”

“What happened in the flashback?” Athos asked softly.

“It was over only in a few moments”, Aramis said. “I… I was in the field watching as the musketeers were slaughtered. I couldn’t do a thing…”

“I’m sorry”, Porthos whispered and held Aramis’ hand. He could feel Aramis trembling and his heart broke a little for his brother.

There was knock on the door and the three heads turned to look at it. D’Artagnan opened the door and walked in, carrying four cups full of soup and placed them on Aramis’ small reading table.

“So, can I ask what this is about?” d’Artagnan asked quietly.

“I’ve been having flashbacks to Savoy”, Aramis said, his voice hollow. “I almost attacked Athos and Porthos because of them.”

“Do you need to talk about it to us?” d’Artagnan asked. “My father used to have flashbacks to his days in the infantry, but they lessened when the village priest asked him to talk about the memories associated with the flashbacks.”

“That could work, Aramis”, Porthos said, squeezing Aramis’ fingers. “It worked the last time too.”

“It did”, Aramis said, smiling softly at the memory. “I’ve only had two flashbacks so far but Marsac was in both of them. I think he died in both of the flashbacks.”

“Did he say anything in them?” Athos asked.

“This morning on the field”, Aramis whispered, “he told me it was my fault…”

“Hey”, Porthos said, leaning over to Aramis so he would look Porthos in the eye. “It wasn’t your fault. It was the cardinal’s plan and you had to suffer for it. It was never your fault, Aramis.”

“And you did not descend to the same madness as Marsac did”, Athos reminded. “That makes you strong.”

“He wasn’t weak either”, Aramis whispered. “He did not get the same help as I did.”

“He _left_ you!” Porthos said. “You could have died there in the snow!”

“Stop it, both of you!” Athos said before either Porthos or Aramis could get too worked up. “We did not come here to talk about Marsac; we came here to help Aramis.”

“But what if these flashbacks are Aramis’ mind telling him he should grieve Marsac?” d’Artagnan asked quietly. “You were friends after all.”

Porthos and Athos glared at d’Artagnan, but Aramis offered him an exhausted smile. Only then did d’Artagnan realise that Aramis hadn’t probably slept enough ever since Marsac had died.

“Perhaps”, Aramis said softly. “I’ve been trying to occupy my mind with other things than him…”

“Why should you grieve for someone who hurt you?” Porthos asked, frowning in annoyance.

“Because no matter how he hurt me, he was my friend too”, Aramis told, smiling sadly at Porthos. “I miss him, and I think no one should live like he had to live…”

“Then you grieve, and we’ll be right here for you if you let us”, Athos said and Porthos nodded in agreement. “We left you alone once with Marsac and all that guilt and I’d rather not do that again.”

“Thank you”, Aramis said. “I’d like it if you could stay here for a while. I’d like to hear the sound of your voices while I do some thinking.”

“Then we’ll stay”, Porthos said and slung his arm around Aramis’ shoulders. “And eat the soup d’Artagnan so graciously produced for us.”

“Indeed”, Athos said. “I do hope you will not grow bored of our voices.”

Aramis chuckled softly. He truly loved his brothers who would help him through anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, opinions and constructive criticism are always welcome here!

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think about this? Loved it? Hated it? My friend who's usually the only one who gives me all the feedback isn't in this fandom so I can't ask her to read this :"D I'd really appreciate some feedback because I'm craving attention very badly at the moment...


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